


was it a long journey?

by jimlafleur



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: F/M, based on the newly released promo pics from 2x05, someone already did a fic like this but here's my interpretation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-15
Updated: 2014-11-15
Packaged: 2018-02-25 07:52:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,324
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2614085
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jimlafleur/pseuds/jimlafleur
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Every mouth you've ever kissed was just practice. All the bodies you've ever undressed and ploughed in to were preparing you for me. I don't mind tasting them in the memory of your mouth. Was it a long journey? Did it take you long to find me? </p><p>You're here now. Welcome home.</p>
            </blockquote>





	was it a long journey?

**Author's Note:**

> _remember._

To be happier than Bellamy was right now would be impossible.

The fact that grounders were after them was irrelevant. The aching throughout his muscles was a numbness. The lurking nervousness about their safety was shoved into the back of his mind. The fact of the matter was, despite all the dangers they were still in, he had his sister by his side, and he was leading her, Monroe, and Mel back home -- back to safety. He might get his hands cuffed as soon as they arrived, but that was something he would be able to tolerate. The knowledge that Finn was still out there fighting to find their people was comfort enough. The knowledge that Octavia was safe and within his reach was the consolation he’d been yearning for.

Of course, there was something missing. But he tried not to think too much about it.

He walked side by side with his sister, their shoulders brushing as she brought him up to speed. She told him about the grounders she’d encountered, specifically mentioning two named Nyko and Indra, and he told her how he got locked up at Camp Jaha and escaped so that he could find their people. Though, he left out the part about _how_ he escaped, because then he’d have to bring up Abby’s name, and then he’d have to bring up _her_ name, and that wasn’t something he took joy in doing.

They made several stops due to Monroe’s injury. They had been hoping to get to Camp before sundown, but after a few hours that didn’t seem possible. They took refuge at Finn’s bomb shelter for the night where Octavia checked on Monroe’s leg and Mel wiped the dirt from her face. Bellamy offered them the bed and the couch while he curled up with a musty blanket in the outskirts of the shelter.

He was still happy. Impossibly happy. When he closed his eyes he saw Octavia, laughing, her braids flicking through the wind while she sliced her sword through the air. How could he be happier while he slept safely in the same room as his sister and his friends?

Golden light swept through his dreams. A shimmering blue shined against his eyelids like the summer sun on an ocean. Bellamy was happy.

* * *

“Not far now,” Monroe said lightheartedly the next morning. Bellamy felt soft mud under his feet. The air was clearer here. The trees increasingly less dense. It was familiar. He knew they weren’t near the camp yet — they still had an hour to go, at least — but he felt like he’d been in this area before. Not just for any old hunting mission, or for a stroll away from the dropship; this place had significance. He should remember. If it was really so important, Bellamy knew he should remember. But he was at a loss.

Frustrated, he kept moving. He’d remember once he saw more of his surroundings. He’d remember, or he’d make himself remember. He quickly advanced ahead of the group, his walk more purposeful and steadfast. His eyes were narrowed, his hand gripping his gun tightly. He heard Octavia mutter his name from behind him but he continued on.

Suddenly he caught a glimpse of a pale light, hovering to his left. He rushed after it without hesitation, doggedly following whatever it was — a sign, a trick, or a figment of his poor, poor imagination. “Bellamy,” His sister called from behind him, but her voice disappeared into the wind. He stumbled into a clearing. The light was gone. Dead plants stuck out of the ground, arranged almost in a pattern. Yellow grass surrounded him and he pushed intruding bushes out of his way. The ground slowly rose into a hill and he ran, he ran up, up and over, over…

He stopped, breathing in harsh, cold air. He saw pillars. Pillars holding up an old, flooded building. A statue of a horse rose gallantly out of the water, the seat of a horsemen with half of his body eroded away. It was familiar here. He remembered.

Bellamy had in fact been here before, once; it seemed like years ago now. They’d found weapons here. This was where he hallucinated. He had almost _died_ here, likely in the very same spot he was standing in right now. He’d had his face punched in and a gun shoved in his face, and all the odds were against him. But somehow, Bellamy didn’t die that day, nor any day since. He’d been saved, despite his readiness to give up and accept his death. Hell, he was past accepting. He was _begging_ to be killed. But she saved him.

She…

Somehow, she kept finding him. Sometimes it was in his dreams. Other times it was a random appearance. A golden light, a light that shed so much joy and sadness on him at the same time. She was a name he didn’t dare speak. A memory he didn’t dare remember. Had he given up on her when he decided to turn back? Was going back to Camp Jaha a mistake?

 _Of course not_ , a voice inside him assured. _You're with Octavia now, there's no one more important._ After a moment, Bellamy accepted that as the truth. But still, there were people who came pretty damn close.

"Bell, what the hell are you doing?" A voice that he recognized to be Octavia's said from behind him. _Speak of the devil_ … He turned and saw her, a few steps into the clearing with a slightly stunned look on her face. "Is there something up there?"

He looked over his shoulder. He could easily point out where the entrance to the supply depot was. He remembered how hard it was to open the hatch. He remembered his anger when he knocked over the barrel. He remembered her face when she fired her first shot of her whole life. She was so ecstatic. He was too.

"No." Bellamy replied. "Let's go." He stumbled down the hill and fell in line behind Octavia. Mel and Monroe were waiting for them a few meters into the woods. They got up, and once again began their march back home.

* * *

 

It was midday when the Ark’s remains came into view. Bellamy warned the others to approach with their hands up so that the Guard knew not to shoot them on sight. Octavia snorted at that, but complied, and so did the other two. They advanced slowly into the sight of the Guard, and unsurprisingly they were greeted with raised guns and shouts of _stop right there_! Bellamy sighed and drew back. It was as if they didn’t recognize him, as if they didn’t drag him into the camp in handcuffs a couple days ago. Or, maybe they did recognize him, but they were planning on just arresting him again. He groaned at the thought and prepared for the worst, his exterior desensitizing into a stolid façade.

Then, over the shoulder of a guardsmen, he a friendly face: Raven. She was mobile, which was more than he could’ve said the last time her saw (or heard) her. She was standing with someone whose name Bellamy was unsure of, but he knew the man had been an engineer up on the Ark. She looked perfectly fine -- besides for the cane she leaned on and the brace around her leg. But she was Raven. Bellamy was confident she could handle a brace and a cane. At that moment, Raven spotted him, and a wide grin spread across her face.

“Hey, wait up! Those are our people!” She called to the guardsmen, stumbling awkwardly to where they were positioned. “That’s Bellamy! And Octavia, and Monroe! And... and I don’t know who that last one is, but I’m pretty sure you shouldn’t shoot her!”

Bellamy had to smile, and next to him he heard Octavia snort. Then Raven pushed past the guards and began lumbering towards them. At that point, Bellamy didn’t care that the guards still had their guns pointed at them; he dropped his hands to his side and advanced uphill to meet his friend. His sister followed, and they all joined in one great, big group hug. Raven laughed as she latched her arms tightly around the siblings, pulling them down to her level. Bellamy grabbed her waist in support, fearing she might overwork herself, and hugged them both closer to him. “Glad to see you on your feet, Raven.” He muttered into her neck, and she pulled away with a huge grin.

“I’m working on it,” she replied, looking from him to Octavia. “I’ve gotta be hopeful when so many good things are happening around here. I’ve got this brace to help me out, and now you guys are here —  oh, and last night, of course —” She broke off, smiling at them, before she wobbled over to Mel and Monroe. “That look’s pretty bad, Monroe, we should get you to Abby…”

Raven’s voice trailed off, but something she said had Bellamy slightly confused. He looked to his sister, who had the same puzzled look on her face. Octavia spun around and landed a hand gently on Raven’s shoulder. “What happened last night?” She questioned.

Raven turned slightly, raising her head to look at them and parting her lips to speak. But whatever words she planned on saying died away, and her glance shifted to something over Bellamy’s shoulder. With his brows knitted, he swiveled around and peeled his eyes for the subject of Raven’s attention. The first thing he saw was the Guard... or rather, the lack thereof. The majority of them had lowered their guns, and dispersed around the camp to return to their duties. Bellamy could count 3 that still hesitantly held up their weapons, but he wasn’t worried about them. And, as it seemed, neither was Raven.

The second thing he saw was a doctor. A specific doctor, in fact — it was Abby Griffin, _her_ mother. She’d helped them escape; she’d given them the guns in an attempt to rescue her daughter. Bellamy was grateful for Abby, but he didn’t understand why Raven would be staring at her. That was when he saw the third thing.

Her.

Bellamy’s muscles froze. In a single second, he forgot how to walk, how to breathe, even how to twitch his fingers. She’d stepped out from behind her mother and raised her head high, walking with the confidence and sureness she’d always had. Her hair fall around her shoulders in bright, golden waves, and even from across the camp, her blue eyes pierced him like knives. She had a determined look on her face, the same look she always wore when she had a situation. What a _stubborn_ look — one he had seen several times, on several occasions, but had never really appreciated until this moment. He watched her scan the property like a huntress searching for prey, but when her eyes landed on him she halted all motion. Bellamy exhaled.

“Clarke,” he whispered, for the first time in too long. Oh, how _good_ her name felt on his tongue.

He took a step, then another, and counted his steps by each time the rocks _crunch_ ed under his shoes. He proceeded slowly out of the fear that if he walked too fast, he would collapse, and then she’d be gone, and this would all be just another one of his recurring dreams that always ended the same way. But the presence of his sister next to him reminded Bellamy that this _was_ real, and she was just across the way, approaching him with a look of wonder on her face. Her image became less and less fuzzy as she got closer and closer, and he begun to make out the tiny details: the beauty mark above her lip. A scar on her forehead. Traces of mud all long her face and hands. It was her. It was…

“Clarke,” he said again, when she was in hearing range. And her lips quirked up in a smile, and she nodded her head, and he increased his pace until he was almost jogging, and she was so close he could touch her, and he does —

He wraps his arms around her, pulling her as close to him as she can get, his fingers curling around her back. She was a gargantuan presence to be around in any other situation, but she was so small when he had her in his arms. He nuzzled his face deep into her neck, breathing in her musky, dirty scent like it was perfume. Her hair tickled his face and the warmth of her body transferred to him in one giant swell. He breathed hasty breaths against her skin. _Clarke, Clarke, Clarke_ , every inhalation was some variation of her name — but he didn’t believe she noticed. She was weaving her fingers through his hair and soothingly rubbing up and down his back, and she was laughing. She was laughing, and part of Bellamy wished he could see it, but the other part of him already knew what she looked like.

“I thought you were dead,” He managed to admit, speaking in a tone low enough so that only she could hear him.

“I could say the same for you,” She replied. And they laughed together, and he squeezed her tight, and for the first time in several days, his heart rate returned to a normal, healthy pace.

Was he not hugging the sun? Her warmness radiated onto him and it spread throughout his whole body like gas to a fire. She was not just a dream anymore. She was no longer an ominous name to be mentioned only through the use of a pronoun. She wasn’t the ghost of a memory that haunted his existence at every other turn. She was Clarke, and she was there in his arms.

Yesterday, he thought it was impossible to feel any happier.

He was wrong.

**Author's Note:**

> summary quote by Warsan Shire.  
> let me know if you enjoyed it!


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